The Wolf at the Door

After a couple of days now of watching the Syfy channel, drinking tea, eating junk food and moping about in my pyjamas I’ve been asked to write on the merits of such activities to recharge one’s mental batteries.

 To be honest, I don’t really feel that my mental batteries are being charged at all. I feel exhausted from staying up way too late and then not sleeping properly, plus my self esteem has plummeted along with my enthusiasm for work. I will, however, cut myself some slack as this is day 3 of my mope and I know, without doubt, that I will be back on usual form again tomorrow.

3 days is my allotted period for any self pity streak. I will not allow myself to waste any more time than that. This method seems to work well for me as I never overstep my deadline and seem to bounce back better than Tigger on a trampoline, achieving incredible feats, after that time.

I have also been asked if Syfy influences my work. Now, this is a subject I can really get my teeth into. It’s not that TV influences my work per say, but to take a look at my programme preferences is to get an insight into my already existent interests. Once you see that, you can definitely see the influence in my work.

I have always been interested in Mythology, Folklore, Fairytale and the like and the programmes I enjoy most reflect this: Buffy, Angel, Lost Girl, Being Human, The Almighty Johnsons (a bit shit but I’m persevering) and now I’m especially excited about the new series of Grimm which is based on what has to be my favourite selection of fairytales. I watched the first episode last night and was thrilled to see it begin with my all time favourite fable, Little Red Riding Hood.

The depictions of fairytales in my work come from my belief that all of these fables have some basis in reality. I find it strange that we see similar mythology in the history of different cultures all over the world, cultures that could not communicate with each other to pass on these stories in the way that we can today. Perhaps they were crude attempts at identifying a particular kind of energy signature assigned to a person or beast.

We all have individual gifts or talents even if we are not necessarily aware of them. Some people have the gift of the gab, the ability to persuade others to do something ultimately to their detriment like the car salesmen who encourages you to buy that shiny car with the engine that’s about to blow (Sirens), some have the ability to inspire others to great artistry (Muses), or some have a leeching, draining energy that leaves you tired and listless (Vampires). Are these entities separate from humanity? Or are they just human traits that were recognised as special/different in a time where special or different was something to be feared?

Aside from these examples there are the stories themselves. Which insomniac can’t relate to the sleepless night of the Princess and the Pea? Who hasn’t felt trapped in a metaphorical tower at some point in their life, perhaps even of their own making? Who hasn’t met an Ogre? I’ve known a couple in my time! My personal favourite as a child was Beauty and the Beast but I always felt sad when the beast turned into the handsome Prince at the end. In my opinion, he was perfectly fine just the way he was.

Anyway, those are my insane ramblings for the day but I’ll leave you with this;

What particular gift do you have that makes you special? Which mythical creature lurks beneath your human guise?

I know where my talents lie! Do you?

The Scruffley Wuffler!

Scruffley Wuffler lives in a house

With a Witch and a Squirrel, a Boy and a mouse.

There’s 2 cats and a bat, and a monkey too.

Would you like to live in a place like a zoo?

Scruffley Wuffler eats like a bear.

He eats Rustlers and chocolates, all without care.

I once saw him eat a whole gateau in one

But he still only weighs a small part of a tonne.

Scruffley Wuffler has hair on his chest,

It quite often pokes out the top of his vest.

He has hair on his belly and hair on his chin

But the hair on his head is getting quite thin.

Scruffley Wuffler has great big brown eyes,

They’re open and honest, they tells me no lies.

His heart is colossal, he’s kind and he’s caring

But don’t ask for chocolate, he’s no good at sharing!

Scruffley Wuffler likes to drive fast,

You’ll barely see him as he whizzes past.

He’s a little bit naughty but nice all the same,

Life for him now is a bit of a game.

Scruffley Wuffler is an awesome beast,

He always says “scuse me” at the very least

When he lets out a roar from the pit of his belly,

Scruffley Wuffler can be quite smelly!

Scruffley Wuffler’s a handsome old bean,

He’s tall and he’s strong and he’s very lean.

He’s dashing and daring and raring to go,

When Scruffley wants something there’s no telling him no.

Scruffley Wuffler is the best of the best.

When it comes to cuddles, he knocks spots off the rest.

He understands me like no-one else can

And that’s why I love him, my Scruffley man

xxxxx

Bingo or Barf!

Last night I had my first ever adventure in Bingo. I had been stressing about it all day. Those of you who know me well will be unsurprised by this even if you don't quite understand. You will already know that doing something I have no experience of before particularly if it may involve large groups of people and potentially having to shout out fills me with dread and horror.

For those of you who don't know me, I can only try to explain that I am, what I call, an introvert extrovert. I have trouble with simple things that others have no problems with. For example, in the past having to telephone someone I don't know to enquire about something would involve a fair amount of huffing and puffing, some pacing of the room and the necessity to write down on a pad everything I needed to say. If the person on the other end of the phone deviated from my script I was totally thrown and stuttered my way through the rest of the conversation. I'm not quite as bad as that now.

Conversely, despite this cripplingly apparent shyness, I could pitch up at a Jazz workshop on my own and stand in front of a group of total strangers doing some improvisational scatting (do-be-do type NOT doo doo type!!) and sing my version of Fever whilst tapping my foot and hand in totally different rhythms from the music (no mean feat I can tell ya).

Bingo should, after that, be a piece of cake however it triggered my flight or shite mechanism or as it shall now be called, my Bingo or barf mechanism, for most of the day. As the time neared for the event I really started to get nervous, I was very quiet in the car and felt rather sick. We got into the venue and the Man purchased the cards, there were rather more of them than I was expecting, some in books, some loose, different colours and all vomit inducing.

There were already games being played in which the numbers appeared to come at such speed that I couldn't even register them. The Man assured me that our games would be called slightly slower, they weren't. The time approached for us to start, I clutched my 'lucky' red pen until my knuckles turned white and stared at the flashing display screen like a bunny caught in the headlights.

Then it began, they started calling the numbers, my face was a picture of steely determination, my heart racing, my body started to heat up and sweat though my hands were ice cold and shaking. Looking first for one line, then two and then a full house. Everytime I was close to potentially getting the last number required my hands shook even more, I could barely mark the page with my pen. Occasionally I would be unable to find the number called and three more would be called after causing a state of panic as I tried to recall each number and mark them off. There was always a huge sense of relief every time someone else called out and that particular game was over.

You may think that this is an exaggeration but it is in fact an accurate account of the state of stress I was under which had the Man giggling as he watched the jibbering wreck that was his Woman sitting opposite.

Soon it was time for an interval and I could breath a huge sigh of relief and neck a glass of wine to steady my nerves. Now that I knew what to expect the second half was a little easier, my heart was still racing and I had a pout of intense concentration on my face accompanied by a furrowed brow that could rival Gordon Ramsey's (pre botox, of course!) but I made it through. By the end of my ordeal, I was a little disappointed that we hadn't won anything but I figure for my first time it was probably just as well. I had the distinct fear that if I had to shout out the first thing out of my mouth would not be "line", "here" or "house" but instead a loud exclaimation of "FUCK!".

That said, I can't wait to go again :-D

5 Top Tips for Men and Women. Keeping it real!

I was looking online today searching for some interesting topics to write about and stumbled across a site run by a man giving 'helpful tips' to women about how to catch and keep a man! If you were willing to sign up for membership (I wasn't) you could receive a wealth of advice and be told the common mistakes women make that has men running for the hills. I wondered if there was the same advice available to men on how to keep a woman and, surprisingly, there was. I haven't looked further than the front page of these sights although I was curious. Instead I thought I might have a bash at creating my own 'tongue in cheek' top tips for men and women looking to attract a partner for keeps. Some of this may or may not be based on my own experience but I'll try to keep it clean ;-)

For Women: Top 5 Tips to catch and keep your man.

1. Remember to always laugh at his jokes no matter how bad they are e.g. Q. what do you call a Scottish drug dealer? A. Ken Fit-a-mean! Men pride themselves on their sense of humour, if you don't laugh it will be your sense of humour that is considered to be lacking.

2. Never fart in his presence. If you do accidentally let one slip and it's silent you can try to blame the dog/cat/lobster but if it's noisy you will have to get a bit more inventive, blaming a creaky door for the squeaky ones, the seperating of a velcro strip on your racing suit for a medium sized rasper and a small localised earthquake for a right ripper. However, if you do happen to employ the lean sideways and raise cheek method it's game over, you might as well give up and get your coat. That's a total deal breaker.

3. Do wear matching sexy underwear at all times. You never know when your man might want to grab your breasts or bum and make the honk, honk sound. It will lose it's appeal for him if you are wearing an ill-fitting chewing gum grey bra and a pair of big pants that tell him what day of the week it is. He may well need to be reminded that it's Tuesday or Friday but this is too much information for him to take in whilst he's trying to concentrate on his honking.

4. Don't presume to think that you may have any useful experience of motorcycles even if you have owned both the faired and unfaired varieties during your 13 years of riding experience. You may well know that unfaired bikes when ridden at speed will be colder and harder on the arms and shoulders but this information will not be useful to your man unless he is told by a qualified motorcycle mechanic accompanied with the obligatory sucking in of air over the teeth.

5. Remove the words "I told you so" from your vocabulary.

For Men: Top 5 Tips to catch and keep your woman.

1. Remember to laugh at her jokes occasionally e.g. Q. How do you get Pikachu on a bus? A. Pokemon (poke him on, geddit??) Women are generally considered to be far less amusing than men so this may be a stretch for you but it is worth the effort. Practise your guffaws in front of the mirror and if you can manage a tear or two and a clutch of your side, even better.

2. Be sure to fart in front of her at every opportunity. She will find it hilarious and marvel at your repetoir of elaborate accompanying facial expressions and body gestures. If you can vary the intensity at will to provide a variety of  tones that create a veritable harmonic symphony she will be, literally, blown away.

3. Do wear over-sized mis-shapen cotton boxers that flap around at the slightest breeze. Even better if they are so mis-shapen that they are lower on one leg than the other. If you can team these pants with socks that are pulled half-way up your calves and a T-shirt that declares "I'm with stupid" on the front you're on to a winner.

4. Do suggest that your sister take your woman out shopping for clothes and be sure to mention that she did a great job of giving your ex a wardrobe make-over.

5. Add the words "I told you so" to your vocabulary and be sure to use them often.

Here endeth today's lesson ;-)

3 burning questions from the floor

So today I decided to throw my blog open to some questions or topics from my dear G+ crowd. I will try my best to cover these suggestions as thoroughly as possible.

Firstly I've been asked if I would travel the world to do portraits that inspire every second day.

I'm not sure why every second day, why not every day or every third day but, to be honest, I'm not much of a traveller. As I've previously mentioned in my posts I tend to find it difficult to leave the house some days. My portrait painting is more what I would call bread and butter work and although I enjoy the results and the reaction of my happy customers I don't usually feel hugely inspired by it. I would like to travel more but my responsibilities at home are always a consideration.

I did once head off on my own in my 1979 VW Campervan for 6 weeks a couple of years ago. The idea was to make my way by painting as I travelled. I went up to the North of Scotland, down the West coast, over to Ireland and down that West Coast, back through Wales and up through the centre of England all the way back home. Unfortunately it rained for most of it so my idea of sitting by the beach with my easel attracting attention and selling some pieces turned into a more hermit like experience of me in a tin can alone with my thoughts. It still turned out to be one of the best things I've done for my own sanity and one of my major achievements as part of the journey was climbing to the top of Ben Nevis on my own in the driving rain. I came back a changed woman, far more serene and with a more clearly defined plan for my next moves.
The next one should be interesting. Who would win in a fight between Mr T and a T-Rex?

This is obvious to anyone with half a brain. Mr T of course. While the T-Rex was distracted by his mohican, Mr T could wrap his chains around the beast's feet tripping it up, he could then throw his chunky rings to the back of it's throat causing it to choke and expire. The only thing that could prevent this is if the T-Rex realised it was outmatched early enough and got on a plane to fly away because, as we all know, Mr T ain't gettin on no plane, fool!!
Any defining moments as an artist and what did I take from those experiences?

I have already told the story of how the Red Dress Art came about so I will leave that for you to read from the other posts if you care to. Other defining moments have been more along the lines of changing direction in my work as I've tried to find my 'thing'. I started off painting portraits but as I've mentioned before I find that more of a practical use of my skills that gives me an income of sorts if not always that regularly.

At some point early on I was asked to paint some local landscapes for a gift shop so I threw myself into that for a while and although I sold quite a few original pieces and got some mileage from prints my heart wasn't in it. Then I tried painting wildlife but it was very difficult to find non-copyrighted images and I came a cropper one time by accidentally using a copyrighted image. I ended up having to send the original painting to the photographer in Canada to avoid a hefty fine. It was a genuine mistake but I felt sick with worry for ages trying to sort it out so that put me right off that particular avenue.

After that I decided to try something more of interest to me and produced a series of 40s/50s Pin Up style paintings. That was lots of fun and I even set up a dedicated website for them under the pseudonym of Venus de Mons but I have since closed that. I'm a bit flighty it seems!

Now even my Red Dress Art is evolving although I'm not exactly sure in what direction but art is a journey much like life so we will just have to watch this space and wait and see where it takes me.

Things that go buzz in the night!

Just got tucked up in bed last night and rolled over to put out the light. The bed squeaks a little louder than usual so I bounce a bit and complain that we need a new bed. The Man suggests WD40 so I say we need to tighten the screws. I put the light out and roll back and a persistant buzz/screeching sound ensues. I put the light back on and wonder if something in the 'interesting' box under the bed has sparked into life. Nope, nothing in there! I jump out of bed and crouch down to try and find the source. The Man's face is a picture, it's a look of sheer panic and I'm starting to feel a little nervous about what I'm going to find under the bed. Is there some half dead screeching wild animal under there? You'll understand that concern when you hear the noise it makes on the video!

I haul a number of things out and the sound gets louder. Man is looking seriously concerned now, he thinks one of the electrical sockets has gone into meltdown. I find the source and erupt into fits of giggles as I'm trying to simultaneously explain what it is whilst trying to unhook it from the junk under the bed. I can't find the words. "it's a, you know, thing that's made of wire that you're not to touch, erm, a wiggly thing with a stick, you know, you've got to have a steady hand!"

Eventually, I free it from it's position and pull it out. It's one of the Boy's toys. A wiggly wire with a metal hook that buzzes if you touch it, you have to make it from one end to the other without touching the wire or it buzzes. I still don't know the name for it. The Man asks why it's still got the batteries in (they're screwed in, that's why) but he doesn't think to ask why it's under the bed in the first place.

It's not actually that unusual a find when you consider what else is under the bed at present:
an electric blanket, 2 electric fans (I live in the North of Scotland, even at the height of Summer there is little need for one electric fan let alone two!), an 'interesting' shoe box, a riding crop (I swear that was for a fancy dress party!!), a life-size self portrait that the Boy did at school plus a poster size family tree rolled up in a tube, a lion glove puppet, a chewed pencil, the strap for an electric guitar (I don't even have one anymore), a box of wigs, some Summer clothes, an empty shoe box just waiting for some 'interesting' stuff, a witches hat and two copies of New Scientist! Ta da!!

P.S. The cuddly toy lives on top of the bed.

See video here Things that go bump in the night!

Activities for the slightly unhinged

"When I grow up I want to be a Page 3 girl", I told my primary school teacher at age 7! As I got older I did do some photographic and catwalk modelling but none of it topless, I hasten to add.

I have since had a wildly varied career. I've been a waitress in a pizza parlour, a barmaid in The Conservative Club (not necessarily reflecting any political persuasion), I've been a chauffeur, a croupier, a graphic designer, an illustrator, I've worked in a video store, I've typeset ads for a local newspaper, I've sold wine, been a sales assistant in a plus size clothes boutique, managed an art shop, been a secretary for a chain of gift shops, been a bought ledger clerk for a brewery, been the national property administrator for Autoglass, worked as an office manager for a charity that supports a children's community in Russia and been a Mexican wrestler named Juanita Fajita (just kidding about that last bit.... or am I?).

For the past 9 or so years I've worked for myself and truth be told it can get a bit boring. Unless I'm doing an art demo, teaching a workshop or attending a craft fair, I rarely see my customers or anyone else for that matter. I squirrel myself away in my workroom and lose the outside world. It becomes an ordeal to leave the house after a while so I like to get all my outside chores done in one go if at all possible. I'm always surprised and more than a little unnerved if my doorbell rings and it's past the usual time that the post comes.

All my friends live too far away for an impromptu cuppa so I can end up going a little stir crazy from time to time and despite having lived in this town for over 5 years now, I still don't know anyone here. This is more than likely because I don't leave the house.

I need to do something about this. Granted I do have work to do that will require me to be in the house in order to do it but in between these times I need to get out more. There are no clubs that I fancy attending, I'm not a gym bunny by any stretch and my boy's too old for mother and toddler groups. So what can I do?

I'm seriously, and I mean seriously, considering starting my own club. I just haven't quite worked out what yet. It's no good starting an art club, there are loads of them around and it would end up being a busmen's holiday for me so I need to come up with something totally different. I shall ponder on but if any of you have some off the wall suggestions, do fire away. I'm looking for inspiration.

Snakes or Ladders? What's your choice?

Who knows why the twist of fate turns the way it does? Moments of time sewn together in a pattern of light that leads us down a chosen path. Is it predestined, some grand plan or do we hold the design in our hands?

Have we already made a pact with those we invite into our lives to teach us things we’ve yet to learn? A challenge of our own making in order to experience life in ways we’ve never done before. Pain, elation, desire, frustration. A way to heal, a way to feel.

How many people go through life blaming others for their misfortune? Accepting responsibility for how we feel at any given moment gives us ultimate power to change our perspective and regain control of our lives and the direction we wish to take. If every day we can understand that we have the choice to fight or take flight we can find the strength to truly live to our full potential. Our illusion of time appears fleeting but what if even that is under our control? Can we stretch that illusion to extend our periods of happiness and shorten the days of despondency? Why not? We have the choice.

Last night I had a dream that I was watching a film where the characters all had aspirations for their lives that they were working towards. I had seen the film before and knew that each and every one of them would ultimately fail yet I still felt inspired somehow. They blamed their circumstances or the people around them for their failures but I woke up feeling that I was the only one responsible for my successes or failure. I choose not to fail, I choose to learn from my mistakes, I choose to perservere and keep climbing.